


Try This Instead

by voiceless_terror



Series: Prompt Fills [13]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Smoking, prompt, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: Jon leaves drawers open that he will inevitably bump into, and is fine with letting his dishes ‘sit’ in the sink. Martin walks too quietly, has a habit of sneaking up that Jon finds jarring. He leaves windows open and lets in the chill. He’s more prone to sighing than talking.Jon finds out that Martin is really good at cards. Martin finds out that Jon can actually cook a decent meal, when he’s not wrapped up in work.Jon and Martin adjust in the safehouse. They start living again.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Prompt Fills [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921006
Comments: 22
Kudos: 207





	Try This Instead

**Author's Note:**

> For an anonymous prompt: hmmmm if u want angsty prompt that goes with a song: jonathan sims + the song "using" by sorority noise. + some of that good jmart. feel free to take it anyway you like! angst that evolves into fluff, full-on angst, lotsa fluff with a smidgen of angst... its up to you!!

Eventually, Jon starts sleeping again.

It isn't like he has much of a choice. Collapsing from exhaustion every couple of days isn’t tenable, and of course he’s much more coherent when well-rested. If he’s going to ‘save the world’ or be of any use, he needs to sleep.

It doesn’t stop the guilt he feels every time he wakes from his little hellscapes, his gifted nightmares. It hurts, the way he feels better after watching the torment of others. But he gives into the need like it’s an indulgence instead of a necessity. Not ‘eating’ makes it worse, makes _him_ worse. Perhaps he won’t prey on people when he’s awake if he does it in his dreams.

He looks better. He no longer wakes to a blanket on his shoulders or a steaming cup of tea at his side. His indulgence has its own consequences, personal as they may be. But if he’s going to help Martin, he’s got to be at his best.

And maybe he enjoys feeling well, despite the terrible cost.

* * *

On his last day in the Archives, he kills someone. He doesn’t mean to. Or perhaps he does. It’s not his fault Lukas wouldn’t answer his questions.

On his last day in the Archives, he pulls Martin from the Lonely. Jon takes his hand like it's worthy of reverence. Martin doesn’t smile, but his eyes are blue again, not the hazy grey Jon had gotten used to.

They run away together.

It’s not bliss.

It’s not surprising. Martin and Jon never really knew each other. Seeing and Knowing are not necessarily understanding. There was no slowly building friendship, no will they/won’t they scenario like something out of a sitcom. Just a series of tragedies binding them together in the approximation of love. They’ll get there, but they have to take it one day at a time.

Despite his ever-present need for company (especially after his time in the Lonely), Martin needs space. Jon never noticed this about him, too busy wrapped up in his statements and being bothered by his assistant’s fussing. So watching as Martin goes on solitary walks and leaves the room to read in silence is quite jarring. He needs space as much as Jon needs contact. But Martin wouldn’t know that about him, how could he? He only saw Jon reach out once he was too far gone. Jon wants to take his hand, wants to rest against his chest as Martin reads god-awful poetry. Is it selfish to want? 

He just wants to be worthy of Martin’s sacrifice, that’s all. 

They learn each other’s awkward habits. Jon hums and taps and makes more noise than Martin probably thought possible. Jon leaves drawers open that he will inevitably bump into, and is fine with letting his dishes ‘sit’ in the sink. Martin walks too quietly, has a habit of sneaking up that Jon finds jarring. He leaves windows open and lets in the chill. He’s more prone to sighing than talking.

Jon finds out that Martin is good at cards and _really_ good at lying. Martin finds out that Jon can actually cook a decent meal, when he’s not wrapped up in work.

Sleeping is where they find their truce. Jon can curl up in his arms, Martin can bury his face in Jon’s hair. Jon still dreams his dreams and Martin is still unnaturally cold, but the touches are grounding. They’re each lost in their own separate ways. But they’re lost with each other.

Still, it’s a delicate balance. Martin and Jon walk on eggshells, each trying desperately to please the other. Jon tries to be what Martin needs him to be, but he feels like he’s doing it wrong.

He doesn’t feel like himself.

* * *

Jon smokes outside.

Martin doesn’t like the smell, and Jon won’t fault him for that. But the bite of the cigarette reminds him that he’s human, in some small way. That he has petty needs and vices. A moment’s pleasure, fleeting and simple. A sin with only himself as the victim.

It feels like a choice, but Jon doesn’t think it is.

“Nasty habit.”

Jon startles at the voice- Martin, of course. Quiet and unassuming as he takes his place beside him. His nose is wrinkled.

“I’m sorry-” he begins, stubbing out the cigarette but Martin cuts him off.

“No, it's fine,” he shrugs, digging his feet into the dirt. “You should be able to do as you please. After all you’ve done for me-”

“Martin-”

“No,” Martin says firmly, looking intensely at the ground. “I never really thanked you for that, you know? For getting me out of the Lonely. You saved me.”

Jon leans his head on Martin’s shoulder, hoping the contact is welcome. Martin doesn’t tense. “You spent months in Peter Lukas’s hold. Months trying to save us. I- I never want you to feel like you have to do that again. I know I haven’t always been the best company-” he lets out a chuckle, one that Martin weakly returns. “-but I’d like for us to do this properly, you know? Without all the-the ‘spooky interference,’ as it were.”

“You said _spooky!”_ Martin’s grin widens in delight. Jon returns it.

“Just for you.”

Martin’s face is a lovely shade of red as he turns from him shyly. “What- what do you mean, ‘properly’?”

Jon hesitates, unsure of how much he wants to divulge. How much Martin wants to hear. But it’s been building up for so long- all the tiny things Martin does that he likes, that he _loves._ All the things he wants to share with him. But also everything he’s been holding back, everything that makes Jon himself. Everything that makes life worth living.

So he speaks.

“I-I want us to stop sacrificing for each other,” he stutters out. It’s his turn to look at the ground. “That- that can’t be all love is, right? I want to buy you flowers. I want to talk to you about your poetry. I want to complain about the songs on the radio that you always listen to.” He hazards a look at Martin’s face- he’s staring at him with unreadable eyes. Jon can’t look away. “I want- I want to buy you dinner and tell you jokes you won’t laugh at. I want to keep waking up to your face for as long as I can.” He takes a deep breath, willing his voice not to shake. “But I don’t want to live just for you. I want to have things of my own. I want to feel like a _person_ again. Choose things. Enjoy them. And I want you to have that too.”

There’s silence. Martin’s eyes have that bright, incredulous look to them, as if Jon’s said something particularly unbelievable. Perhaps he said too much.

“You- you love me?”

Jon pauses, his brow furrowing. “I mean, yes. Obviously.”

Martin barks out a laugh that manages to be both snarky and joyous. “You never said, you dolt!”

“N-No, I swear I did-”

“You didn’t!”

They stare at each other, Jon attempting to catalogue every one of their exchanges thus far (the Eye is occasionally useful for such things).

He hadn’t, it turns out.

“Fuck.”

Jon can’t help but match the laughter that Martin’s currently choking out. It takes them several minutes to get it under control, but by the end of it Martin’s got an arm around his shoulders and a hand in his. “I’d like that too, you know,” Martin says softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into Jon’s shoulder. “I really would.” Something in Jon’s chest warms at the words.

Martin’s taste in music never improves. Jon never gets the hang of doing the dishes. They bicker. A _lot._ Jon buys Martin dinner and tells him jokes he doesn’t laugh at. Martin goes on his walks. Sometimes he brings Jon along. 

And one time, he leaves Jon behind. Promises to tell him if he sees any good cows. And Jon just smiles, gentle and in love. 

The tape recorder clicks on.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, hope you enjoyed! Couldn't help leaving off on an angsty note, typical me. Love these boys. 
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed! Comments always make my day.
> 
> And thanks for reading! You can reach me @voiceless-terror on tumblr for prompts/asks.


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